Reflections on Sabah quake: Sometimes, silence is golden

I've been thinking about the Sabah earthquake.

I think about the children who perished. Did they go quickly and as painlessly as possible? What were their thoughts before they left us? Were they scared? I have no answers. Still, I desperately hope these kids had some form of comfort as they breathed their last.

I think about the teachers. The Teacher's Pledge says, "we will be true to our mission to bring out the best in our students" and it also says "we will be exemplary in the discharge of our duties and responsibilities". The teachers of Tanjong Katong Primary School, including one who died and another who is missing, kept their promises. I think about those who say some teachers organise overseas educational trips because they want a free holiday. Really? I don't know about that, but I know these teachers used their bodies to physically shield their young charges from rocks as big as cars. Rocks as big as cars.

I think about the parents. As a mother of two little ones, I feel for them. Oh, how much courage they must have to carry on with life. In this dark time, they not only mourn their own, they head to wakes to offer support to others. I think about those who criticise, often behind the anonymity afforded by the Internet, and say the parents shouldn't have let their children go. Do these people have children of their own? I can't be sure, but I know a parent deals with many difficult decisions -- and reflections -- on a daily basis.

I think about the future of education in Singapore. I believe such educational trips and programmes cultivate various positive character traits in our young ones. At the very least, they expose children to a world outside of Singapore -- and it's a world of possibilities. I think about people who blame the Ministry of Education for what happened, saying such overseas trips should be banned. I can't tell the future, but for now, I know we can neither predict earthquakes nor prevent one.

Most of all, I think about my children. In a few years, I may have to make a decision about similar educational trips. Do I allow them to go or not? I support these programmes and agree with their benefits, but my heart, I know, will be heavy and unsettled until my child is back in my arms.

Though I've been thinking a lot, I have nothing much to say. I don't know about you, but for me, being quietly -- and respectfully -- supportive is the best way to honour the victims of the Sabah quake.

For some of us, especially those who cannot make things better with words, silence is golden.